


Let It Be This One

by allisondraste



Series: Roses and Thorns [7]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-11
Updated: 2018-06-11
Packaged: 2019-05-20 22:32:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14903348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allisondraste/pseuds/allisondraste
Summary: Alistair's worst nightmare is realized as he is made King of Ferelden and must choose his kingdom over his heart.





	Let It Be This One

     Alistair hated himself.  He had hated himself from the moment that he decided to swing open that heavy wooden door and face her for the first time since the landsmeet. He realized that prior to that time, he only  _ though _ t he hated himself, because compared to the current level of self-loathing, it was only a moderate disliking.  He would have happily given many things to return to that state of mind, including the dusty old crown that he would now be expected to wear. 

     When he entered the room,  Lucia’s face brightened and she rose to greet him as their friends watched eagerly.  It felt as if his heart crashed into his stomach, and he suddenly felt sick, as he knew that would be the last time she looked at him that way. He frowned and cursed himself, his father, Arl Eamon, and the Maker for what duty called him to do.  He cursed them again when he felt her take his hands in hers and he forced himself to meet her gaze. Her beautiful features contorted into a look of concern.

     “Alistair,” she whispered, her voice even, “Is everything alright?”

     Her grip on his hands tightened as she awaited his response.  He had prepared an eloquent speech to her in the hallway before entering, but he could no longer remember the words.  In fact, it appeared that in between his hallway rehearsal and the present, he had forgotten how to speak at all. He suddenly became aware of all the eyes on them, and gently pulled her into the hallway.  He fumbled for a moment before speaking.

     “Luce, my love,” he spoke softly, forcing the words past the lump in his throat.

     He could already feel the tears burning in his eyes, and he paused to admire the woman in front of him, the most important woman in his life.  He was about to break her heart, and by doing so, shatter his own beyond repair. He placed a hand on her cheek and looked into her tired, sad eyes that made her seem so much older than nineteen, eyes into which he had gazed many times during the year they spent together.  The stoic and reserved mage had opened up her mind, her heart, and her body to him. She had trusted him with her hopes, dreams, fears, and secrets. As he stood in front of her, prepared to discard every last trace of intimacy between them, he did not know if he would be strong enough to see his duty through.

     “What is it,” Lucia urged, “You’re starting to worry me.”

     “Now that I am king, everything is going to change,” he finally replied.

     “Of course it is,” Lucia said with a smile, momentary relief washing over her face as she placed her hand over his that rested on her cheek, “But you’ll adapt,  _ we’ll _ adapt.”

     “That’s the thing,” Alistair said as he took his hand from her cheek and pinched the bridge of his nose, pacing back and forth, “I will adapt,  _ we _ can’t.”

     He stopped abruptly in front of her so that he could gauge her reaction.  Had he not known her as well as he did, he would have thought she had no reaction to his words at all.  She did not flinch, nor were there tears in her eyes. However, Alistair could see the subtle changes in her: the way her fists were now clinched at her sides, the way her skin became even more pale, the way that she tilted her chin upward, the way the brightness that lingered in her eyes only when she looked at him vanished.

     “It’s just that as king, there will be certain duties that I will have to fulfill, like marrying, producing a viable heir, and -” he began to explain.

     “And my status as a mage  _ and  _ as a Grey Warden make our relationship impossible now,” Lucia stated coldly, “Understood.”

     “I am so sorry, Luce,” Alistair said, a single tear falling down his cheek, hating that she was still so practical even now, “I will  _ always _ love you, you know that?”

     “Noted,” Lucia replied, as she reached out to wipe the tear from his cheek in a way that was more reflex than conscious thought.

     Lucia blinked, nodded, and turned to open the door back to the dining hall where their friends waited.  He watched as she entered slowly, explaining that it was simply a personal matter and reassuring everyone that everything was fine.  _ Lies _ . He thought to himself as he closed the door behind her.  Nothing would ever be  _ fine _ again.

     As he walked down the hallway and back to his quarters, he pondered her reaction, or her lack thereof.  It was not as if he had expected her to react with an outburst of emotion. That would have been out of character for Lucia.  What shocked Alistair the most was that she did not question his decision. She did not even ask for an explanation. She either understood and respected his duty to Ferelden more than he did, or she was too hurt to even speak. Alistair suspected the latter.

     When he arrived in his quarters, he removed his armor and placed it on the floor next to the bed.  After hours spent tossing and turning in an attempt to sleep, he took a seat at the desk that was across the room, placing his elbows on the surface and cradling his face in his hands.  Alistair let himself mourn, releasing every emotion that he had swallowed as he stood in before his love mere hours ago. He sobbed and lamented, pounding his fists against the desk until he heard a slight knock at the door.

     “Alistair,” the voice said, “Wake up.”

     Alistair recognized the voice to be Lucia’s, and shook his head, thinking he must be hearing things.  Then there was another knock.

     “Alistair, are you okay?,” Lucia spoke, muffled by the door, “You need to wake up.”

     He gingerly stood and walked to the door.  As he opened it there was a blinding white light that caused him to squint.  As he opened his eyes, he found himself lying vertically in on a soft surface that felt like a bed.  He was sweating under thick quilted blankets, and he was naked. He blinked a few times and noticed a familiar pair of aquamarine eyes gazing at him from beneath concerned ebony eyebrows.

     “Luce.. what,” he asked groggily, “Was I dreaming?”

     “Seems like it was more of a nightmare,” Lucia said matter-of-factly, “A rather terrible one judging from the way you were thrashing about.”

     “Thank the Maker,” Alistair exclaimed as he abruptly pulled Lucia into a tight embrace, holding her as if she would vanish if he let her go.  She returned the embrace, rubbing his bare back gently in a comforting motion.

     “Was it the darkspawn? The archdemon,” Lucia asked.

     “No, it was worse,” Alistair answered before planting a kiss atop her head, “Far worse.”

     “Worse? How could anything be worse than  _ that _ ?” Lucia squirmed out of the embrace slightly so that she could see his face.

     “I dreamed that I lost you,” he said nearly under his breath, as if he spoke it aloud it would come true.

     Lucia gave him a small smile before falling back into his arms.

     “That won’t happen,” she said confidently, as if it were an objective fact.

     “I hope you are right, even more than usual,” Alistair said, his voice trailing off, as he thought of how he lost her in his dream, as well as the many other ways that he and his love could be separated.

     As they laid down to go back to sleep, still in each other’s arms, Alistair silently prayed to the Maker, the Creators, and any other ambiguous deities that might have been listening.

_      Please. If you ever choose to answer a prayer. Let it be this one.  _


End file.
